Chandra's Riddle
by DreamTruant
Summary: In a world where nothing is as it seems, secrets and fear shroud the truth. Through the death of a friend, Harry discovers Voldemorts greatest secret..so sick & humiliating, he knows no one who can bare it. This time the truth bleeds.....
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_Harry Potter does not belong to me_

'Chandra...', the name rolled slowly off his tongue, he had waited many years to take back what was rightfully his... too many years.

Long-fingered, white hands adjusted a black traveling cloak, to better survey the small village.

The sun was slowly setting over the cold, gray mountains; just visible though the trees and hazy smoke coming from several chimneys.

Gravel crunched loudly underfoot as the stranger started walking to the highest point in the village, to a handsome manor overlooking the mountains.

The stranger knew, as he always did, that she would be there. He had wanted her almost as much as Harry Potter.

Harry woke in a cold sweat, his mind working overtime to hold the vision of Voldemort in his head; but it was like trying to hold water in your hands.

Feeling frustrated all Harry could remember now, was dark trees and a path.

Sudden manic jubilation spread throughout his body, like hot fire, and his body shook as he collapsed, and all became dark.


	2. Chapter one The given secret

**Chapter one**

**The given secret**

_Harry Potter is not mine in anyway_

The rain had been pouring all night, loud almost deafening in heavy indecent assaults. Barely giving some, if any, sleep to the girl who lay in her bed. Even if there had been no rain, the little girl called Gavetta wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway.

Cold beads of sweat covered her tiny body, and her black curls stuck to her face. All night her parents had been up. Their echoed yells and sobs constantly reached her room upstairs.

Gavetta glanced around her gloomy room. A small circular window with black and red striped walls, it didn't look suitable for a child. The roof was a faded gold, with a painted tree; upon which many dates and names had been written in scarlet. A small bed hugged the wall opposite the window, allowing Gavetta to see that the night had ended.

Gavetta tightly hugged her rag doll, and pulled her shabby blankets over her head. Listening to the rain falling on her roof, she imagined it sliding down her window like tears.

Perhaps she could stay hidden here forever, then maybe the man wouldn't come for her. She wasn't afraid of him - but her parents seemed to be. Since his visit, many nights had come and gone like the one ending now.

Gavetta remembered, how he had arrived, with a faint _pop_. She had be playing outside on her broomstick. Watching the gnomes chase each other round the bushes and flowers. She had heard the man open the white rickety gate. Walk quietly up the messy path. Once at the wooden door of the cottage, he had knocked loudly.

Gavetta thought more of the flowers then the man. Outside the garden was beautiful, with hundreds of red and blue roses. Flutter bushes swayed even though there was no breeze. Gavetta imagined the garden to be small, but it was hardly a garden at all. Surrounding most of the cottage, almost choking it, the garden had once been magnificent.

Now it was wild and overgrown. Giving off the air that the garden and cottage had long been abandoned. If it weren't for the low white fence and smoky air rising from the chimney; it would have appeared to be an extension of the woods near by. The air carried the smell of spring, and the trees had begun to bloom. It was very beautiful-just like her, her father had once said.

"Gavetta come inside, its getting cold out there" came her mothers voice, drifting through a small stained glass window. Gavetta did so at once, and felt the warmth from the fire tingle her cold hands.

"Gavetta, I would like you to meet Mr Riddle. Come here, and meet him properly, closer child" her mother chided as Gavetta had tried to hide behind her robes.

"Good evening, Mr Riddle," Gavetta said to the floor, wiping dirt off her fingers. "Its nice to meet you. I've been playing in the garden, watching the gnomes chase one another."

"Have you now?" smirked the handsome man with dark hair and dangerous eyes.

"Yes, it was fun," replied Gavetta, finally looking into his eyes. Which reminded her somehow of both ice and fire.

"Come here child, come into the fire light, I would like to look at you."

Gavetta moved around the old furniture, where her parents were now sitting, walking away from the eerie candle light. The light cast indecisive ghostly shadows on the walls.At the end of the lounge, Mr Riddle stood directly in front of the fire. Gavetta stood next to him.

Riddle cupped her face in his hands, like a farmer viewing stock. "The child is very beautiful. Long curly hair, deep blue eyes, olive complexion, and pure blood. She appears to be a friendly child, and looks like she will grow to be a fine woman. I will take her. You do not know the contribution she will one day make to our wizarding world. Her pure blood, so important..." Riddles voice faded, apparently lost in thought.

He turned to face the fire, his expression impossible to read.

Behind his back, Gavetta's parents Druella and Cygnus exchanged worried glances. Both were concerned with his approach...their daughter was not an object. Gavetta was a 3 year old child, innocent and kind.

As if reading their thoughts, Mr Riddle turned to face them.

"It is for the best if I take the child, we kill two birds with one stone. You have had this child out of wedlock, she will never be accepted into your family Cygnus. I need a pure blood child, to bring up as my own. I will pay for her, look after her, and one day she may return to you. Druella, once you and Cygnus are married (which I hear is soon), you will no doubt have more children to bring into the pure noble Black family. So do not fear. You have not told your family about the child Cygnus, and Druella only your mother knows. So when I take her, no one will notice she is gone. I will return in a month."

"My mother has recently died"

"I am sorry to hear that," Riddle said, sounding unnervingly charming. "You are too young Druella to bare such things. You are barely twenty. You have a whole life ahead of you. Cut these binding ties away. Start again. Be kind to yourself; if you give the child up you will be welcome with open arms into the Black family. You will no longer have to live like this" Riddle said, openly surveying the house.

"True" replied Druella.

Cygnus spoke up, his blond hair almost glowing in the dim light. "You are right. My family will not accept this child, even if we married tomorrow. If my parents knew, they would disown me. Fornication is seen as weak and unjustifiable. When we marry, I will inherit my fortune. Druella and I will be very comfortable. There is no future for any of us, if the child stays. I can not continue hiding both Druella and Gavetta here, some of my family members are starting to suspect. My family have not seen Druella since her mothers death, and wonder why. Gavetta can not be left alone. Her mother Charlotte looked faithfully after Gavetta. During those times Druella would spend time getting to know my family. Earning my parents approval. We now have it, and will marry soon. Return in a month. We will have the child ready."

"Yes, I will return" whispered Riddle, and with that he turned on his heel and left.

A tiny _pop_ could be heard in the spring breeze, but was drowned out by the wails of Druella. She had started shaking uncontrollably, her long hair covering her face.

"Bed," she sobbed to Gavetta. Gavetta tucked herself into bed, and that was the first night the shouting had started.

Looking up Gavetta saw her mother walk into her room, her face swollen from more tears. Druella looked at her daughter, who looked (apart from her curly hair) like a perfect miniature version.

No more tears, she thought. She picked the child up in her arms, and hugged her, like her life depended on it. Today the man would return. Until her precious Gavetta left, she would hold her grief and sorrow. First her mother, now her daughter.

Tomorrow will come she thought, and please let it be swiftly.

_I would appreciate reviews and feedback..._


	3. Chapter Two, Mourning begins

**Chapter Two**

**Mourning begins**

_Harry Potter is in no way mine_

_I forgot to mention...that my story is that of Harry's Seventh Year _

Harry awoke with a start. He had been dreaming about Hedwig. She had been flying free over snowy hills. Harry was happy that, at least in his dreams she was alive and well. Dwelling on the fact that she had been killed along with Mad-Eye Moody during his trip to The Barrow (two nights previously), did nothing to cheer him up.

He felt guilty, and angry at all the people who had died. For leaving him. Now alone he must finish the dangerous task of destroying the horocruxes, then killing Voldemort. Though whenever these thoughts occurred, stabbing guilt filled him, making him sick to his stomach. He wanted someone who would tell him what had to be done, someone he could talk to.

In the muggle world Harry thought, he could see someone, like a psychologist. But after everything he could tell them; they'd probably lock him away for life, put him in a straight jacket, and chuck out the key for good measure.

Harry was lying in the spare bed in Ron's bedroom, staring at a fixed point on the wall. The walls and roof, were filled with Quiddich posters. All the posters were blazing orange matching Ron's hair and freckles perfectly. All the occupants were flying around, trying to show off their skills.

"You okay Harry?" asked Ron. "Your kinda just looking at the wall."

"Yeah, just thinking about Hedwig, and all the stuff I have to get done this year.." Harry's voice trailed off.

"When are you going to get it? Me and Hermione are coming with you. Blimy Harry, did you expect that I've changed my mind since we went to bed last night?" Ron half-heartedly threw a white parcel at Harry, it landed squarely on his nose. He couldn't see what it was, as his glasses lay somewhere on the floor.

"What was that for?" Harry asked irritably.

"First of all for been a git, thinking you were going to find horocruxes by yourself; and second of all because its your birthday, and thats one of your presents," replied Ron with a smirk. "Happy birthday Harry."

"Hey yeah, I had forgotten," said Harry forgetting all about his sore nose. "I'm seventeen today, I can use magic." Harry felt round for his wand, and said "accio glasses." At once his glasses came flying straight into his eye. "Ow..maybe I should wait till I've woken up properly." Ron giggled.

Harry rubbed his watering eye. Putting on his glasses, he picked up the present Ron had chucked at him. He opened it to find Weasleys' Wizards Wheezes products. Harry chuckled, remembering how Fred and George had sold them at Hogwarts. How whole classes had used them against Umbridge.

"It's not fair" Ron grumbled, looking at the tightly sealed packets of Canary Creams, Nosebleed Nougat, Extendable Ears and Skiving Snackboxes.

"They never give me stuff like this as presents." Ron said, picking up a Canary Cream. "You'd think been their brother and all, they'd cut me some slack and give them to me for free."

"Maybe Fred and George are waiting till Christmas," suggested Harry.

The door creaked opened, and through it came Hermione, smiling, her hair braided, yet still bushy. She opened the curtains, casting blinding, obnoxious light into the little room.

"Morning Ron, Harry, and happy birthday," she said turning from the window to face Harry.

"You know you should have knocked before coming in, we could have been getting changed or something..." Ron said, turning bright pink.

"Something? What else would you be doing Ronald?" retorted Hermione.

"You know the usual...home work" replied Ron weakly, now turning the red of a traffic light.

"Right" replied Hermione, looking amused. "Well breakfast has been ready for a while, and your mother has let you both sleep in. However, the wedding preparations still need our help. Fleur's family arrived late last night to help as well. More hands are needed today to put up the marquee, and sort through the presents. By mid afternoon, be ready for a full wedding rehearsal. The wedding is after all tomorrow. Since we're seating everyone, along with Fred and George, we have to be there. And no Ron we can't get out of it." Ron had opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it Hermione continued. "Theres no point trying to get out of it either. George already tried. I'm surprised hes got any ears left after the way your mother was yelling at him Ron."

Harry's smile faded. George's ear had been cursed off by Snape during his trip to The Barrow. He knew it wasn't his fault. George had chosen to come, but still... He just hoped one day he could make everything up to the Weasley family. They had taken him in, like their own son. Ron was his best friend. Ginny had been his girlfriend. Harry admired Fred and George, who took on the world (and their mother) fighting pain with laughter. They were like his brothers. Even Charlie and Bill treated him like a brother.

"Well I'll see you guys downstairs. Be quick. Oh and Harry heres your present." Hermione pulled a package from behind her back. "Hope you like it."

Harry undid the blue ribbon, which appeared to be holding together a small rolled up cushion.

"What the..?" Harry called in surprise, as something bit his finger. His cushion had grown teeth.

"Cools its a mini Jarvey. I dunno why Hermione got you one though. They talk you know, but usually what they say is, well funny."

"Random" said Harry, as he held up the Jarvey, which looked like a small ferret. "I remember this been in one of our old school books. Ron do you have your copy of ___Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them?"_

"Yes" said Ron as he walked over to his small closet. "It's in here somewhere...ahh here it is, under my umbrella." Ron hastily wiped the dust from his book, and passed it to Harry, who found the page immediately.

"The Jarvey is one of the few beasts that can actually talk. Its speech, however, consists entirely of rude phrases and insults. Jarvey's chase gnomes," Harry read aloud. "Maybe Hermione found a way to teach it to talk properly. How'd she shrink it?"

"Beats me, but its really cool and rare. You should prod it Harry, maybe it will say something."

Harry gently picked up the Jarvey. Harry felt soft, silky fur encase his hands. The animal fitted neatly into his cupped hands.

"I'm going to call him Godric."

Godric looked up at Harry, his bright green eyes a contrast to his brown and pink fur. He looked so cute, but Harry knew first hand that cute things were usually dangerous. He thought of the Veela at the Quiddich world cup. Ron suggested he put Godric in the spare cage in the corner. Godric didn't protest, and started munching on what looked suspiciously like the remains of some long forgotten deceased pet.

"We had better get downstairs, I think I can here mum yelling." Ron and Harry quickly changed, as Godric could be heard chewing on bones.

Ten minutes later they sat eating breakfast, Ron stuffing his mouth with whatever his arms could reach.

"Ron," called Ginny as she swayed passed the table. " You disgust me. You eat like a troll. She winked at Harry." Harry thankfully was eating more gracefully. He had been bombarded with 'Happy Birthdays', and found after his first attempt at replying (which ended up with him swallowing so much, he choked, and sprayed bits of tea on George), that it was easier to eat smaller amounts in order to answer. Ginny had given him a cartoon card, with a broom chasing a snitch. Zooming half heartedly after the snitch, the broom seemed to enjoy the chase. Harry had never seen a moving cartoon before. Inside it read,

_To Harry_

_Happy Birthday. In the end your get the snitch your after. _

_You don't need to chase it, its already yours._

_Yours_

_Ginny_

Harry looked closely at the snitch on the front. He hadn't noticed it before, but painted on the wings on the snitch was the word 'Ginny'. You wouldn't notice have noticed, as the letters looked apart of the textured wings. Clever thought Harry.

His heart beat fast, and for the rest of the day he day dreamed about all the times he had spent with Ginny. All the things they had done together, all the things he had wanted to do with her.

A hot heat somewhere below Harry's belt made him blush.

That night, as he lay his head on his pillow to sleep, he remembered nothing from his birthday dinner. He had forgotten that Mrs Weasley had made him a cake resembling a snitch, how Godric had chased the garden gnomes during dinner. Even forgotten about Scrimgeour; who had come and given Ron, Hermione and himself the objects from Dumbledore's will. Smiling, Harry went to sleep for the first time in months, with a fire of hope burning within him.

The day of the wedding brought perfect weather. Clouds drifted lazily across the sky, as the sun shone brightly on the large erected marquee. A small breeze played with Harry's hair, which at this moment was fiery red. Harry had been disguised as one of the Weasley cousins.

Having just finished seating the guests, Harry took a seat next to Hermione and Ron. Music suddenly started to play. Bill turned from the front, and as one with the guests, drew in a deep breath. Fleur looked absolutely stunning. Her simple dressed exaggerated her silvery glow. Hermione thought she had never seen Fleur look so happy or beautiful. The ceremony proceeded quickly. Harry saw Mrs Weasley silently crying, while Mr Weasley hastily wiped something out of the corner of his eye.

Next to him though, Ron was fuming. Ron had bumped into Victor Krum just before the ceremony began, and was now mumbling indistinguishable swear words under his breath. Krum's appearance had made quite an impact on all the guests, especially Hermione, which did nothing to cheer Ron up. Ron was now casting scornful glares at the back of Victors head; which ceased immediately as Hermione shrewdly stared him down. Ron proceeded to watch the ceremony, with a pretense of dignity, and even managed to look slightly ashamed of himself.

One day it would probably be them up there, thought Harry. Getting married and looking insanely happy. Or maybe it would be Hermione and Victor. Harry stood as Fleur and Bill walked down the isle as: Mr and Mrs Weasley.

The reception started first with some formal speeches, which quickly ended, followed by the cutting of the cake. In a far corner Luna sat, along with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Krum, Fred and George. Food and drinks had suddenly appeared on their table.

George and Fred were happily chatting to Krum, who could barely take his eyes off both Hermione and Ginny. Harry was not impressed, and was beginning to feel agitated. Ginny was determined to ignore Krum, however Hermione was blushing, looking flustered. Ron began to color as well, though his was an ugly blotchy red. Luna was staring off into space, humming 'here comes the broom' .

"So where ez Harry, Hermione?" Asked Krum, still laughing at a joke Fred had just said. Ron stabbed the food on his plate moodily.

"H-Harry is-is here," stammered Hermione. "He just doesn't look like himself at the moment."

"Vell. I must find him later, we get on so vell you know. We were good friends. Oh look, the dancing is beginning, Hermione. Will you honor me with the first two?"

"I would like that very much" whispered Hermione.

Ron stabbed his plate so hard, it broke. "Reparo" he said glumly. Luna seemed to be the only one who had seen something.

"Was that you Ron? You know its bad luck to break things on a wedding day. My daddy did, and someone died the same day."

"I don't believe in superstition. Anyway my luck couldn't get any worse" he said, looking at Hermione and Krum swirling round the floor.

"Our luck just jackpotted," Fred and George said together, waving to what looked like some Veela cousins of Fleur's, three tables away from them.

The table was filled with almost identical Veela. Haughty blue mischief eyes, with long blonde hair and more glow then a light bulb, Fred and George had captured their attention. Many of them had been jealously watching Hermione, as she glided round the dance floor, her curls bouncing, with Krum's hand sliding between her hip and waist.

"See you guys later. We're going to be busy giving the Veela's a good laugh, and well anything else we can," teased George.

"Well I guess its just us then" Ginny said, looking at first Harry, then Luna and Ron.

"I like this song, it sounds so sweet" Luna replied, and with that she got up and started dancing by herself, slowly revolving on the spot, her eyes closed.

"She's mental, you know that?" Ron said, smiling for the first time, in what seemed like days.

Early evening set in about them, with hundreds of floating lights replacing the setting sun. Fleur's family were barely containing themselves, drinking so much that Harry thought they'd all collapse. But instead, they started singing, playing loud games in which flowers were pulled out from under their robes.

But the Weasley family was nothing compared to them. Several of the relatives were stopped by an embarrassed Bill, when they had attempted to remove their clothing as part of a drinking game. Fred and George had long disappeared into the bushes. Ron was now dancing with Hermione, while Krum and Harry sat at their table chatting away. Harry had told Krum who he was a couple of hours ago. Krum thought it was a great joke, yet understood the necessity of it.

"I'm vos so sorry to hear about Dumbledore, he was such a great man, so respected in my country. The day he died, I heard, and decided that I needed to do somezing immediately. I secretly joined The Order. I have met several times with Charlie, Ron's brother. Nobody suspects me, because I am famous. I deliver information all around the world as I travel for my games. My family is very proud of me."

Krum pulled out a picture from within his robes. Five faces, including Victors smiled up at Harry. Harry thought that the siblings looked close together in age.

"My mother and father. My younger brother Alban (by a year), and Chandra the youngest. Theres me on the end. I hope to be a good example to my brother and sister. Albus has the wrong friends, and Chandra is as mischief, as she is beautiful." Harry looked at the picture. Harry had to admit that Chandra was very beautiful, with her light green eyes, dark curls, olive skin and shapely figure.

"She ez almost almost 18. I want Hermione to meet her, they would get on so well." Harry doubted this very much. Krum stared at Hermione and smiled. "I know he likes her, and zat his family are important members of The Order. I don't want to be difficult, I just can't help who I like. She is so smart, and doesn't throw herself at me, like those other woman. Is it possible for me to get her, and be Ron's friend? "

Harry suddenly found the tablecloth interesting. There was an awkward silence. Krum seemed to understand. "I know he's your best friend."

"I want Hermione happy, thats all. She deserves it." Harry gulped down some fire whiskey, and felt his throat burn.

"Will you do something for me Harry? Will you give her this picture of my family and I? I want her to have something of mine. The photo is recent. She wouldn't tell me what she was doing this year, but where ever she goes, she can at least see me."

"Sure. I'll give it to her tomorrow."

"Thanks Harry."

The crowd started to thin as people apparated just outside The Borrow's boundaries. Some had come on broomsticks, others used the Floo network, while some had walked.

Harry had a suspicion that a lot more people had disappeared into the bushes then just Fred and George. Harry wondered whether he should have drunken more, and taken off with Ginny.

Ron was now hanging onto a chair, with red rimmed eyes. Apparently he had drunken far too much. Ginny was helping him back to the house, looking annoyed. She locked eyes intensely with Harry for a second, then was gone. A flushed Hermione made her way over to Harry and Krum.

"I am so exhausted. I don't think Ive danced so much since the Yule Ball. Did you have a good time Harry?"

Harry nodded. "I had a great time, and now I'm ready to hit the sack. Good to see you Victor." Harry stood up and shook Krum's hand. "Hopefully we'll meet again soon."

"Yes, that would be good."

"Night Hermione," Harry said as he turned around and walked into the night, thinking of his pillow and warm bed.

Harry opened the door, Ron was no where to be seen. Sitting on his bed, he fell asleep fully clothed, his glasses hanging a skew.

Harry woke in a cold sweat. His mind working overtime to hold the vision of Voldemort in his head; but it was like trying to hold water in your hands. Feeling frustrated all Harry could remember now, was dark trees and a path. Sudden manic jubilation spread throughout his body, like hot fire, and his body shook as he collapsed, and all became dark.

The next morning, Harry rose early. Downstairs was unusually quiet, everyone still lay in their beds. Another bad dream Harry couldn't remembered, had plagued him during the night. Making himself a cup of tea, he watched the sunrise, and tried to remember. He felt a strange sense of urgency, but shook it off. Enjoying the peace and quiet which let him think, Harry jumped at the noise of the door opening.

"Morning Harry" Hermine said, as she pushed her hair off her face. "I couldn't sleep much last night. Must of been the wine. I thought I'd get up and feed the chickens."She had deep bags under her eyes, bits of smudged make-up everywhere, and her messy hair made her look wild. This was all very un-Hermione.

"Good idea. I had another, er bad dream. Must have been the wine." They both smiled at each other, silently acknowledging the truth.

"Oh, I forgot." Harry reached inside his pocket and pulled out the picture Krum had given him. "This is for you. From Victor." As Harry handed it over, he saw written on the back, _always with you, love V. _

Hermione took the picture with trembling hands. She looked at the floor. "He asked me out Harry. He said that he wanted to marry me one day." She looked up at Harry with pleading eyes. "I said yes Harry. We're going out now. You don't hold it against me do you? For choosing him over Ron?"

"Of course not. You can't help who you like" Harry said, repeating what Victor had said.

"Yes, but Harry I feel so guilty. Please don't tell Ron, I'll do it when the times right. I told Victor I wouldn't be able to see him till we'd done our...stuff. He didn't mind. He said he'd wait years if he had too." Hermione smiled, putting the picture in her robes.

Something tapped on the window, making them both jump. A pure black owl had arrived, delivering the _Daily Prophet_. Harry gave the owl a couple of bronze knuts, and sat down at the table. He opened the front page, and tried to cover his horrific gasp.

"Whats wrong Harry? Has someone died? What is it? Let me look."

"No. Hermione please don't look at it."

"Why?" She grabbed the paper out of Harry's hand. She read the headline. Apprehension dawned. "Noooooo. No" A howl like that of a wounded animal escaped her. Harry had never heard anything so unnerving. Muffled footsteps could be heard moving above.

She flung the newspaper to the ground, slumping herself on the floor. Beginning to rock back and forward, she let out a long drawn scream of fury and pain. "No," she said to herself. "No." Harry ran to his friends side, hugging her tightly.

"Whats happened? Whats going on?" yelled Mr Weasley in alarm.

Harry pointed in the direction of the _Daily Prophet. _Mr Weasley picked the crumpled paper off the ground.

More faces were appearing downstairs. Mr Weasley turned stony faced to them.

"Krum is dead. Voldemort murdered him and his entire family last night. But one of the siblings bodies couldn't be found."

With that, the mourning began.


	4. Chapter Three, Prison in Paradise

Chapter Three

_Prison in paradise _

_Harry Potter is in no way mine_

Water splashed vibrantly down the fountain, tracing the smooth carved rock. Around the fountain albino peacocks strutted majestically, full plumage gleaming in the sun.

The grass was dry, and the hot wind promised another scorching day.

Tall manicured yew hedges, running parallel to each other, flanked a straight driveway.

At the end of the driveway, an ancient oak door, belonging to the handsome manor, swung slightly in the air.

Through the front door, past the huge entrance hall, and into the drawing room, a plain brown door sat.

A dark passageway on the other side of the door, lead to a steep staircase and a cellar.

In the cellar a young woman paced the room, confined by bars and mire.

"I demand to know why I am here".

She spat at the man who stood guard, perfectly hitting the front of his robes.

The hooded man tensed in anger, then let it go. Wand twitching in his hand, wanting to kill, vengeance like poison boiled in him. He fought to control it, he must.

"Your anger amuses me."

" You pathetic coward. I know who you are. You think you can break me? You think you can hurt me? You think you can win me over? Why do you they call you Voldemort anyway? I heard whispers that you look hideous, even now you hide your face from me. Do you not think I can read your thoughts? How you loose control, and even now against your own will, your body wants to kill me."

She laughed, loud, manic and drawn out.

"You better learn to hide your thoughts better, because I will find out everything. It is better for you, to stay away from me, I'm dangerous."

"I am the dark Lord, you will not talk to me like this. Crucio."

The woman's body began to shake, but it did not look like she was in pain. Voldemort stopped. He knew it was pointless. He couldn't break her through pain. He hated to admit it, but she was strong willed.

"I am a merciful Lord. If you speak such words again, you will have no mouth from which to speak them." He turned to leave the cellar, but stopped to hear her reply.

"Very well my Lord," she spat each syllable out. "Just remember that I am always thinking them."

She smiled.

Voldemort carried on walking, pretending he didn't hear her. He must stay away from her for now he thought. Otherwise he may kill the girl too soon.

The young woman named Chandra sat, absentmindedly brushed her dark curls. Regret stung her.

He had treated her tolerably since she arrived. True he had kept her prisoner, and had tried to torture her.

But she was not the easiest of people to put up with. She knew at the best of times she was stroppy, loud mouthed, prone to irrational outbursts, and seductive with her beauty.

Yet for the most, she was treated like a queen. Her prison was extravagantly dressed, like a prison but in paradise, but with her gaoler been the devil himself.

She looked around.

Red carpet had been put on the stone floor. Draws and a four poster bed, accompanied mink and fur blankets.

A magic toilet chamber had been put in another corner with a screen for privacy.

In the middle of the room a three legged table sat, upon which permanent dishes were stuck. Several times each day new food and liquid appeared.

She ate heartily, unafraid of hidden poison.

There was even a filled book case, a glass case with lizards, a velvet couch, colored swaying candles, and enchanted bricks which cast the weather in.

This puzzled her.

A prisoner of the dark Lord, kept in extravagance, and attended personally by him.

She read some of his thoughts clearly, but most seemed murky, hidden, somehow ripped away. She had always been able to read minds when she tried hard enough. Always.

She would try again.

Seven days she had been here, and she didn't care if she ever left.

Her family had been murdered, and hate like fire, had filled her, burning her wounded pain. Hate kept her alive, hate kept her safe. She stopped brushing her curls and listened to the footsteps above.

"My Lord, may I inquire as to why the girl is here?" Bellatrix asked calmly.

"She is of use to me. Eventually all will become clear. She is to be left under your charge while I am gone. You will not speak to her, or touch her though. You are to make sure nobody else goes near her, nor finds out of her existence. You will however send Draco to spend time with her."

"Draco, my Lord?"

"Yes Draco, they are of a similar age. Let him into the room with her. Let them be close to one another, develop a... friendship. What I want from her can not be taken by force. So I will employ other methods, even those foreign to me."

"Surely anything you want my Lord can be taken-?"

"By force?" Interrupted Voldemort. "Yes, but some are more enjoyable with permission."

Bellatrix felt a stab of jealousy. This girl was getting treated like a queen. The scum. Probably a dirty bud blood.

"Jealous?", Voldemort smiled like a snake. " Do your duty, you will be rewarded. Shes only a young woman, why should that bother you? Put your thoughts to better things."

He walked away from her, into the entrance hall, out the front door and with a swish of his cloak was gone.

But Bellatrix couldn't. Something odd was happening. Was the dark Lord going to take this girl for his own pleasure? Or did she have something else to offer him?

Chandra's face swam before her, the girl was the most beautiful young woman she had ever seen.

Even her attitude was attractive- dark, strong willed, careless and powerful. Power beyond her age. Skill beyond almost even her. She was everything Bellatrix wanted to be.

Pained filled Bellatrix, her body shaking. It should have been her be filled with the dark Lord, not some unworthy, filthy undeserving brat.

Maybe Draco could help after all. She would show the dark Lord that Chandra was only a girl, and that everything he wanted he could find in her. She would encourage Draco and Chandra to be lovers.

For once in her life, emotion clouded her. She did not think of the consequences which would fall on herself or her nephew.

Bellatrix found a mirror, and looked hard at her self. Azkaban had stolen her beauty. Years of dedicated service to her Lord had done this to her. Yet even now he held back most things from her. It wasn't fair.

Draco passed the room, his reflection pale and rushed in the mirror.

"Draco, the Lord has work for you to do. There is a prisoner in the cellar, make sure to fulfill all her needs. She is to be treated with respect. You must become close to her."

"The dark Lord wants me to become close to someone?"

"Yes, but do not to talk to anyone of this, not even the dark Lord. Go down there at once. I will tell your mother and father that you have been given a job. You will be relieved of all other duties. Report to me daily. I want to know how far you've... come with her."

"What do you mean how far?"

"Think about it Draco. Your a young man, with physical needs. Don't deny yourself. Downstairs is someone like you. Now go."

Draco blushed, a mixture of nerves and pain.

"Yes aunty."

Draco turned and walked down the dark stairs. He hadn't bothered to bring his wand.

Draco was frightened, and yet so curious. But he knew if the dark Lord had anything to do with it, it would be horrible. The dark Lord brought pain and destruction to everything. This was probably a sick game.

Who could he trust? He had never felt so trapped.

He swung the door open.


End file.
